The Night Of Christmas Past
by challengerspet
Summary: An incident from Artie's past threatens Christmas for our guys. What's Christmas without a little angst? : Sorry this is late but I had to wait to post. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Again I do not own the main characters just the twisted plot and storyline. And as usual I don't own Artie but hey every girl has her dreams!

Author's Note: CAP and Dotty the ending is for you guys! Thanks for all your help! (I can't believe the ending to this one lol)

THE NIGHT OF CHRISTMAS PAST

He strolled down the street looking in each shop's window. Finally he shook his head and gave up for that day. _What do you get for a friend who has almost nothing and wants even less? Oh well, at least I still have a little time to come up with something, _he thought as he wandered down the street toward the saloon where he was supposed to meet his partner.

He entered the saloon and plunked down in a chair next to his partner and grabbed the beer his friend had waiting. He took a long drink before setting the mug back down on the table and just stared at his partner.

"Something wrong, Jim?" Artemus asked his partner.

"No, Artie, nothing's wrong," his partner stated flatly.

"Judging by the size of the hole you're staring into me I'd say you're holding out on me. Whatever it is maybe I can help," he said concern for his partner showing.

"It's nothing, Artie. Just trying to come up with an idea for a Christmas present for someone."

"Oh I see. I'm having the same trouble. Some people are just impossible to shop for," Artie avoided his partner's pointed glare.

"Boy do I hear that!" He received a glare from his partner.

They drank their beer in silence each deep in thought. They failed to notice the young man who entered the saloon, took a seat nearby and began to study them. Artemus rose and got them refills on their beers and finally noticed the young man watching them and him in particular or so it seemed to Artemus. He said nothing as he sat back down and handed Jim his beer.

"I think I'm going to go back to the train, Jim. Why don't you stay here for a bit?" Artemus finally broke the silence.

"What's up, Artie? You have that look in your eye."

"See that young man over there? He's been watching us for a while now while he's been sitting over there nursing that beer and I'd like to find out why. He seems to have taken an interest in me in particular," Artie said as he sipped his beer.

"Hmm…maybe I should leave…wait for him outside…" Jim offered.

"No, you stay here. If it's me he's after he'll leave when I do. Give me ten minutes if I'm not back then come out," Artie replied as he finished his beer and stood up.

"Sorry, Jim," he said louder than was necessary, "I'm beat so I think I'll meet you back at the train. If you want to drink some more you're on your own, pal," Artie said as he took his leave.

The stranger watched the scene unfold and finished his beer quickly. He rose and followed Artemus just as he predicted. It took all of Jim's restraint not to follow. He glanced at the clock in the corner and sipped his beer.

Artemus walked slowly down the street, stopping to look in store windows, acting like he was checking out the items on display but in reality he was checking the reflection in the glass, looking for his tail. _Ah, there he is, _Artemus said to himself. _Now it's time too draw the fly into my trap._ Artemus quickened his pace and his shadow followed. Artemus ducked into an alleyway and waited patiently. Soon, his shadow moved past him and Artemus made his move. He reached out and grabbed the man and hauled him into the alley and shoved him up against the wall.

"You've been following me, friend…and I want to know why," Artemus growled as he applied pressure with his forearm to the man's throat.

"Last I heard it's a free country…a man can go where he pleases," the man spat.

"Not when it infringes on my right to be alone," Artemus pushed harder.

"You don't know me do you?" The man glared.

"Why should I know you?" Artemus asked.

"It figures…you kill my pa and you don't even bother to remember."

"I killed your pa?" Artemus asked as he froze and eased his grip on the young man's throat.

The young man stared at Artemus, his eyes glazed over. He took on a far away look. Then he shoved Artemus back against the wall. The man pounded on Artemus' chest like a jackhammer while tears flowed like water in a babbling brook down his face.

"My pa trusted you and you let him down. He believed you when you told him you would get him out of that damned war alive!" The man slammed Artemus against the wall hitting him again and again in his ribs.

Artemus couldn't believe what he was hearing and did little to defend himself as the man showered him with blow after blow, Artemus let him work out his anger rather than try to fight this obviously distraught man. Finally Artemus pushed him away.

"Look, son, I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't we go back to the saloon and talk about this," Artemus tried to negotiate with him.

"NO! I have nothing more to say to you except you had better watch your back. That friend of yours won't be around to protect you forever. And the second you're totally alone I'll be there. In the mean time try to think about my father and what you did to him," the man threw Artemus to the ground and kicked him, several times in succession.

"And I'm NOT your son!" Another kick, this time Artemus felt something give a little.

"And just to get you started…my father's name was Tucker…John Tucker," the man kicked him again and knocked him over before leaving the alley.

"John Tucker…"Artemus repeated as he got up and dusted himself off. He held his side as he walked out of the alley and back to the saloon.

"Artie?" Jim asked when he saw him reenter the saloon. He went over to him.

"I'm fine, Jim. My shadow just felt the need to remind me of what he thinks is a past transgression," Artie gingerly rubbed his side.

"Let's get you to a doctor, pal," Jim rose and tried to pull him toward the door.

"No, I said I'm fine. Jim, what do you remember about a man by the name of John Tucker?" Jim did a double take.

"Why would you ask about him?" Jim's surprise evident.

"He was the young man's father and according to him I killed the man," the look on his friend's face spoke volumes.

"What? I remember reading about that man. You didn't kill anyone you tried to help and from what I heard you helped a lot of people you were just one man and you couldn't save everyone."

"Why don't I remember that name? Jim, I have tried to remember but I keep drawing a blank. I think I remember hearing the name but I can't put a face to it."

"It's no wonder, pal. It was during the war. You were pretty out of it by the time a real doctor got there. You had tried to help Tucker during the battle at Shiloh but the camp was dirty…you weren't a field medic…you didn't know what you were doing…just that you had been ordered to help and you helped."

"You were pretty sick yourself at the time and you were in the hospital for a few months after that. The doctor said you probably wouldn't remember much if anything about that time and I was glad you never did get those memories back. The war was pretty hard on everyone."

"So he could be right then…I might have been responsible for killing his pa," Artie moaned.

"No, pal, you did everything you could it just wasn't meant to be."

"Wasn't meant to be? How can I face this kid and tell him I don't even remember his pa let alone whether or not I even tried to save him."

"You don't have to, Artie. I'll talk to him…"

"No, Jim, if I did this I need to face the music. I have some thinking to do so I'll head back to the train and see you later," Artie replied as he pushed away his untouched beer.

"Let me go back with you…" Jim started only to be cut off.

"No, I have some heavy duty thinking to do and I'd rather be alone if you don't mind," Artie rose and left the saloon looking very much like a man on his way to the gallows.

Jim stared after his partner a frown on his face. Right before Christmas is most definitely NOT the time to have old war issues plaguing anyone let alone a man like Artemus Gordon who usually tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. Jim finished his beer and followed his friend home, determined to keep an eye on him whether he wanted him to or not.

Artemus sat in his saddle wracking his brain trying to remember John Tucker but nothing would come to his mind. He thought long and hard about the battle at Shiloh and all he could recall was that he had been serving there with then General Grant and had been ordered to help with the sick and wounded until doctors could arrive.

He remembered an officer that had been giving him an increasingly difficult time, an aide of General Grant's if he remembered correctly. He even vaguely remembered being told months later that he had carried out his orders while suffering from a case of typhoid fever. _That might account for the memory loss, but if I killed a man you'd think I'd remember something like that._ Artemus hung his head and dismounted his horse and pulled him into his stall.

He fed and curried his horse not really paying much attention to what he was doing. Then he went to the parlor car and sat at the desk, thinking. He pulled the telegraph key out and sent a few wires to various government agencies and some friends in the Secret Service. He replaced the telegraph key then just sat at the desk.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim had arrived minutes after his friend and quietly put his horse away and snuck to the parlor car. He propped the door open so he could watch his partner and friend without being seen. Jim listened to the telegraphs he was sending and his heart went out to his friend. When the President got wind of this, and Jim was sure that he would, there would be hell to pay. Grant had made sure those records were sealed and Jim had had to do some heavy bribing and charming to get a peek at them after being assigned to Artie.

Jim could understand why Artie felt the need to know what happened but he wasn't sure Artemus would see things his way and realize what happened wasn't his fault. He jumped back when Artemus put the telegraph away and slowly rose to his feet. Jim's frown deepened when he saw him grab a bottle of whiskey. He quietly ran back down the hall to make it look like he had just come in.

Artemus made his way to his room, pausing as he passed the kitchen. Then he shook his head, he really wasn't in the mood for food, and continued on to his bedroom. Once inside, Artemus sat heavily in the chair beside the bed and opened the bottle. He poured himself a large glass and took a healthy gulp, closing his eyes as the amber liquid coursed through his system. He knew it wouldn't help ease his mind but he did hope it would help him sleep. He removed his clothes and dressed for bed knowing he probably wouldn't sleep well that night if at all.

He groaned when he looked into the mirror and saw the bruises young Tucker had given him. _If I killed his father like he claims I deserve this and more,_ Artemus thought as he gingerly touched the bruised flesh. _I probably should have taken Jim up on his offer to have a doctor look at this…but what the hell, I don't feel like anything's broken just maybe bruised or cracked a few ribs but that will heal,_ Artemus thought to himself as he slipped into his nightshirt. He pulled the covers back on his bed and climbed in reaching for the bottle of whiskey. It was going to be a long night.

Jim peeked in on his friend after a while and was saddened to see the empty whiskey bottle lying beside his partner on the bed. That was never a good sign, especially when Artemus was the one doing the drinking and on an empty stomach. He knew his partner's penchant for wearing his heart on his sleeve but Jim also knew that Artemus was a heavy thinker and that it was intensified when he drank like this. Jim watched his partner sleep for a bit, frowning at all the tossing and turning he was doing. Jim went on to his own room even more determined than ever to keep a watchful eye on his partner.

The morning dawned cold and overcast and Washington D.C. was swathed in a blanket of new fallen snow. Artemus looked out the window of the parlor car not seeing the snow or the people bustling about in the town. He had tried to read the morning papers but try as he might he hadn't really been able to read any of the words before him. He had hoped to hear some replies from his telegrams of the previous night but so far the telegraph had remained silent.

Jim placed a plate of food in front of him but Artemus had so far ignored it. Jim tried not to say anything, knowing Artemus' mind was elsewhere. Finally Artemus came to a decision and he rose and left the car without saying a word to his partner. Jim just stared open mouthed as the door closed behind his partner.

Artemus left the train and headed toward the Capital building. He went to Colonel Richmond's office and asked for an appointment. The secretary, usually glad to see him, seemed somewhat flustered. She told him the Colonel was tied up in meetings and wouldn't be free until possibly later that day. Artemus told her to set aside time for him, as he would be back. He turned abruptly and left the office headed for the records division. Artemus was again met with the same flustered looking secretary and the same response…nothing was available to him until later. He sighed and told her he would return later that day as well. He then strode purposefully to the President's office only to be turned away yet again. _It's a damned conspiracy,_ he thought.

Not knowing where to go from there, Artemus wandered the streets for a while finding himself back at the same saloon from the night before. He strode in and ordered a beer, thought better of it and changed his order to whiskey and told the barkeep to leave the bottle. Artemus picked up the glass and the bottle and headed toward a table in the back. He sat quietly drinking, his eyes staring a hole in the center of the table.

Jim had not had any trouble figuring out where his friend had gone when he first left the train but finding him after he had left the Capital seemed to be another story. Jim wandered around the Capital area asking about him until he finally got tired and wanted a break. He wandered to a saloon across the street when he realized it was the one from the night before. He peeked in and found his partner sitting quietly in the back.

Jim entered the saloon and walked over to the barkeep. He ordered a beer and struck up a conversation with the barkeep.

"Yes, sir, he's been here the better part of an hour," the barkeep was saying.

"Has he been like that since he came in?" Jim asked about his partner's sullen look.

"Yeah, one of the ladies tried to talk to him but it's like he didn't even see her. He's just been sitting there sipping his drinks and staring a hole in that table."

"My partner can kind of lose track of his surroundings sometimes."

"Whatever's bothering him he might want to find a better way to deal with it than that bottle. That won't help him none," the barkeep sounded genuinely worried.

"I aim to help him with that if he'll let me."

"Mister something tells me you're going to have your hands full with that one."

Jim merely nodded and took his beer and headed back to the table and his sullen partner. Jim stood by Artemus' side waiting to be acknowledged, when Artie failed to notice him Jim sat his beer down on the table and pulled a chair up. He studied his friend for a few minutes choosing his words carefully.

"Artie, I know this thing with Tucker is bothering you but do you really think drowning the problem in whiskey is going to help?" Jim spoke softly, Artemus finally pulled his eyes away from the center of the table and brought his icy stare up to meet his partner's concerned gaze.

"Why does everyone want to keep me from finding out who John Tucker was and what happened to him? I seem to remember a man named Tucker but I don't recall having had much of anything to do with him." Jim knew it was a rhetorical question and kept silent, waiting for Artemus to continue.

"I went to every agency and office I could think of and all I was told was that it would be this afternoon before anyone could tell me anything if they would even tell me anything then. All I want to know is what happened…did I kill this man named Tucker? Was it my fault or no one's fault? Damnit, why can't I remember what happened at Shiloh?" Artie slammed his fist onto the table sloshing beer out of Jim's untouched mug.

"I don't know, pal. Maybe it's best if you don't know."

"Are you saying you think I killed that man?" Artemus glared at him.

"No, pal, you couldn't do something like that in a million years. I'm just saying maybe it's for the best you don't get those records. The war was a bad time for everyone involved…maybe this is just something better left alone," Jim tried to ease his friend's pain.

"Out there somewhere is a kid just waiting to take a pot shot at me and I can't honestly say that he doesn't have every right to do it."

"I won't let that happen, pal, I won't," Jim stated.

"What are you going to do, Jim? You plan on babysitting me for the rest of my life? That kid has a lot of years of hate in him and who's to say it isn't justified? No, I have to find out what happened…I have to find out if he's right," Artemus grabbed his whiskey and stormed out of the saloon leaving Jim staring after his shadow.

Jim quickly left the saloon and tailed his partner, being very careful as he knew Artie was an expert at knowing when he was being tailed as well as an expert at losing one. He followed his partner as he meandered throughout the vast city, his concern for his partner growing as he realized the only places Artie was going into were saloons and each one only meant more whiskey being consumed by his friend.

Finally, just when Jim had decided he would have to intervene, a rather tipsy Artemus Gordon headed toward the Capital building again. Jim hoped the crisp winter air would clear his friend's head a little before he went to try to meet the President. Artemus stopped to gaze at the Capital building before going in. He straightened his clothes and put on his best no nonsense face and went inside.

Artemus strode purposefully toward the reception desk, the girl behind the desk staring at him. He again asked for an appointment with the President and when he was told he would be busy until tomorrow, Jim, from his hiding place just down the hall behind a potted plant, thought Artie might go ballistic on the poor girl. His face reddened and his expression became a mask of grim determination.

"Miss, I need to see the President and I need to see him NOW! Either you get me in to see him or you call security to escort me out because I will NOT leave this building until I see the man I came to see," Artemus leaned in close and was shouting at the girl.

"I'm sorry sir, but the President is a very busy man. He's got meetings scheduled…" she began, trying to hold back the tears that were forming.

"One more time, miss…I need to see President Grant and I need to see him NOW. I have gotten the run around from every agency this government has and by God I will NOT be put off anymore…" Artemus was just beginning to hit his stride when the door to the President's office opened.

"Miss Leavenworth, let Mr. Gordon in, please and then you may go for the day," the President had decided it was time to deflate Artemus before he blew a blood vessel.

"Yes, sir," she said as she gestured to Artemus who merely glared and brushed past her.


	3. Chapter three

Artemus entered the President's office and, without his usual common courtesy, sat in a chair facing the large desk. Grant took in his appearance and the fact that he had spied Mr. West's obvious attempt to hover over his partner, and made no comment. He merely went to his own chair and sat down. Grant starred at Artemus for several long moments before he spoke, choosing his words carefully.

"Mr. Gordon, would you care to explain your actions of this day?" Grant spoke softly and took up a non-defensive position.

"I have to know, sir. I HAVE to know," Grant thought Artemus sounded very much like a little boy who had been punished for something he didn't do.

"There are better ways of asking for information than scaring the life out of my secretary, don't you think, son?"

"Yes sir. I'll apologize to her tomorrow. It's just that no one seems to want me to find out what happened that day," Artemus replied frustrated.

"Tell me what you do know."

"All I know is that last night I was attacked by a man who had followed Jim and I to a saloon. He claimed I killed his father and that he will kill me. But that first he wanted me to think about what I had done. Honestly, sir, before last night if anyone would have asked me I would have told them I had never heard of a man named John Tucker. If this kid is right and I did kill his father…" Artemus let his sentence trail off.

"Artemus, believe me you did nothing wrong…" Grant started when Artemus interrupted him.

"Then why won't anyone tell me what happened? Sir, I know I served with you at Shiloh, can't you tell me what happened?" Artemus pleaded.

"Son, I can only tell you what I know to have happened and what I have read in the sealed reports this morning. There isn't much to tell really…battlefield reports are not always the best written reports."

"But there has to be something somewhere!"

"All I can tell you, son, is that I don't give out medals of valor very often and that I never give them out without good reason and that was just the first of many medals I gave you…" Grant paused hoping that would trigger a memory.

"The first…I thought Spotsylvania was the first…" Artemus stopped and thought for a long moment before speaking again.

"Wait, I remember now, you gave me a medal on the battlefield at Shiloh just before they took me to the infirmary. You had ordered them to take me to the hospital and I didn't want to go but you made me. That medal was…"

"Yes, Artemus that was the first of many medals you would be awarded."

"I thought that was a dream. When I woke up in the hospital a long time had passed and the medal wasn't in my belongings so I thought I had hallucinated it."

"No, son, you didn't. When the doctor informed me you were so terribly sick and delirious and that you kept murmuring about Tucker I thought it best to remove the medal from your belongings. Then…when the doctor said you seemed to have no recollection of that last day at Shiloh I took that as a sign that you weren't meant to know what happened. I had all the records sealed and no one ever mentioned it again."

"How does Jim know about it? We hadn't even met then," Artemus looked accusingly at the President.

"That I am not sure about but believe me I will get to the bottom of it. Something tells me you have found yourself a guardian angel in Mr. West whether or not you want one."

"Sir, don't you understand that I have to have access to those files?"

"I understand that you are torn about this, Artemus but I'm not sure reading those files will help you."

"Sir, I have to find out one way or the other if young Tucker is right. If I killed his father…"

"Artemus, listen to me, you did not kill anyone. From what I remember you went above and beyond the call of duty as you always have. You helped save so many lives that day…for every Tucker there are at least ten more men who owe you their lives. You faced insurmountable odds and yet you persevered and overcame every obstacle thrown in your way."

"It looks like it wasn't enough doesn't it? I failed to save this boy's father…"

"Son, you aren't God…you can't expect to save everyone, especially not in a war. There were over 13.000 Union soldiers alone killed and wounded at Shiloh and I swear you'd made it your mission to single-handedly save them all. You were only one man, Artemus; you could only do so much. And you had typhoid on top of everything you were trying to accomplish. I was shocked I didn't have to add you to death roster."

Artemus sat thinking about the President's words but to him right now they were just words. There was a young man out there in the city…looking for him…wanting to kill him because he had failed in his duty. As much as his head believed what Grant was telling him Artemus' heart was determined to get at the truth. Grant, seeing the determination on his friend's face, pulled a stack of folders from the corner of his desk.

"Against my better judgment, I'm going to give you these folders, Artemus. But they are top secret and still considered sealed. You may take them back to the train and read through them and, I hope, get the answers you are seeking. Barring any catastrophic events, I have given all Secret Service agents until the new year off. I suggest you use your time wisely to sort this out and do what needs to be done to get your mind back on your work by then."

Artemus looked that the pile of folders and merely nodded his head as he grabbed them and headed out the door. Grant didn't even bother to chastise him for not taking his leave of the President of The United States properly; knowing the heavy burden his friend was under. Grant followed him to the door and watched him leave the building headed in the direction of the train. He also noted Artemus' shadow begin to leave as well.

"A word with you before you follow Artemus if you please, Mr. West." Grant said to the potted plant in the corner.

"Yes, sir," Jim stared amazed at the President as he followed him back into his office.

"Sit down, Mr. West," Grant gestured to the chair recently vacated by his friend.

"Mr. West, we have ourselves a little problem. It seems that Artemus' past is coming back to haunt him and said past has been carefully hidden from him all these years. I do NOT want this to go badly for him, am I understood?" Grant stated.

"Understood, sir. Sir, a few questions if I may?" Jim questioned.

"You may ask, Mr. West, I may not have all the answers or even any answers you seek but I will answer whatever I can."

"Why WAS this hidden from Artie? I mean if he really was some kind of hero why wasn't he told? I don't see the need for all the secrecy."

"I once had a man serving under me who I really felt was my equal. He taught me many more things than I felt I could ever have taught him. This man rose through the ranks faster than any soldier ever had before him. I thought he could be another George Washington or another Brigadier General Pulaski. This man was steadfast in his belief that the Union Army was right and he gave everything he had to our effort," Grant paused to get a drink and offered one to Jim, which he declined.

"This man became as close to being my second in command as anyone had for a time. I consulted him before all battles and I valued his opinion highly. Then one day into my camp blew this opinionated and somewhat egotistical young officer who seemed to challenge my man at every turn while making military duty look like a walk in the park compared to the hard work he had to do…" Grant paused again when he noticed the slight smile of acknowledgment tug at Jim's mouth.

"This young officer began to question every single order given by my aide. He seemed bound and determined to have it out with him. And finally on that day he did. This young officer tore down my aide in front of all of his men…did a nice job of it too…but my aide was not about to be put off. He stormed off and wrote a letter home to his wife and young son telling them in detail about this brash young officer who was trying to take his place with me."

"And did this young officer?" Jim already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway.

"Not right away. This young officer had so infuriated my aide that he overstepped his bounds a little and ordered this already overworked and sick young man to tend to the wounded. It was meant as a slap in the face but the officer took to it like he was born to be a medic. He went from tent to tent tending the wounded, not stopping to even take care of himself."

"Later in the day there was a big offensive push by the Confederate Armies and I had no choice but to order my aide take charge of a large group of soldiers and meet that offensive. When they brought the wounded back my aide was among them. His wounds were rather extensive. We only had ten doctors to treat over 13,000 sick and wounded and care for identifying the dead, so I ordered this young officer to continue to help treat the injured until more doctors could arrive."

"This young officer impressed me very much that day. He worked all day and long into the night…treating the sick, injured and giving orders to bury the dead. He never let up…even after he collapsed with fever he still kept going. He slept for a very short time then just got up and went back to work. Nothing anyone said could make him stop."

"His last patient before becoming one himself was my aide. The officer took one look at his leg and knew if he were to have any chance at all that leg would have to come off. He didn't want to do the amputation but the senior doctor didn't give him any choice. He had a young private hold a book open and told the officer to do whatever the book told him. He operated on my aide with all the diligence he had but it just wasn't enough…too much time had gone by the infection had spread to his blood stream."

"My aide didn't last the night and with his final breath he swore vengeance on that officer. Said he had left a letter for his son detailing this officers insubordination and that if he died it was this officer's fault and he wanted to be avenged."

"Sir, are you telling me Tucker was your aide and Artie…?"

"Yes, James…John Tucker was my aide and Artemus Gordon was that young officer."

"Why wasn't Artie ever told?" Jim was becoming defensive of his partner now.

"When he was in the hospital and the doctor discovered he had no memory of most of that last day we decided it was best if he never be told. There was a lot of killing in that war, a lot of needless killing, if we could save Artemus this detail we felt it was worth it," Grant downed his drink in one gulp.

"Was it worth it sir? No disrespect intended sir, but was it worth it?"

"All these years I had thought so, West. But now I'm not so sure. Go after him, James, keep an eye on him, protect him now the way I failed to protect him then. You are good at what you do…you can keep him from knowing what you are doing. Don't let him out of your sight but don't let on what you are doing or we may lose him for good," Jim stared at Grant for several long seconds.

"I always intended on doing just that, sir. This is not going to be easy for Artie and I want him to know that he has at least one friend behind him," Jim glared.

"Mr. West, don't think for one minute I don't regret my actions of that day. Seeing Artemus in my office today brought back a lot of painful memories I had thought I had hidden away long ago. War is always grisly, it is always something to be blocked from our minds, the most gruesome aspects of it anyway, and Artemus did just that. While his body was taken over by typhoid fever his mind had decided that last day had never happened."

"Didn't anyone ever question Artie about that day?"

"Whenever he was questioned about what he remembered he had always told every minute detail about the battle at Shiloh up until the last hours of his last day there. Then he seemed to draw a blank…his mind won't let him remember what happened and we may never know exactly what happened only the bits and pieces we got from those who had any time to spare to help him."

"Mr. West, it would be a terrible thing if Artemus were to remember the events of that day. His mind was so twisted with sickness if he remembers the events incorrectly it could have devastating effects."

"I understand that, sir. And believe me if I have anything to say about it, Artie will remember that he did his job and did it well."

"And that is as it should be, James. Go after him and take care of him. We need him."


	4. Chapter 4

Jim nodded and took his leave of the President. Hurrying as quickly as he could, he tried to catch up to Artemus. Jim reached the train and jumped off his horse and allowed the crewman to take him. He walked through the train hoping to find his partner. Jim finally reached the parlor car and quietly opened the door to see Artemus deep in the files; tears streaming down his face. Jim noted, unhappily, yet another almost empty bottle of whiskey beside his friend.

"Hey pal, you want some help going through those?" Jim tried to sound calm. Artemus quickly wiped his eyes and took another long pull on the bottle.

"No thanks, Jim. I think I need to do this alone."

"But you're not alone, pal. I'm here and I want to help you get through this."

"Not this time, Jim. I can't explain it but this is just something I need to do alone."

"All right but remember I'm here if you need to talk or anything. I'll go make us some dinner," Jim smiled weakly, Artemus merely nodded.

As Jim cooked their dinner he heard his friend slip past the kitchen and enter his room. Jim frowned but kept his comments to himself. When dinner was finished he took a tray into his friends room only to find him asleep with a report spread out on his chest. Jim left the dinner tray on the sideboard and took the report and neatly put it back together and set it on the table beside the bed. He put a blanket over his friend and watched him sleep for a bit. He noticed Artie's pained expression and wished his friend would let him in. _I can't say that I would do things any differently but I hate it when he won't let me in. And I really hate it when he won't let me help him._ Jim went to his room hoping the morning would bring a new day and a new and refreshed outlook in his partner.

Jim woke and got dressed and went in search of his partner. He frowned when he saw the note on the table. _Jim, I need to find Tucker and have a talk with him. I won't do anything stupid…just try to talk to him. Maybe his father or mother told him something that will help me remember that day. Be back later, Artie P.S. we're out of whiskey_ Jim frowned at that last comment, Artie on a binge was bad enough but Artie on a binge while going through this ordeal would be a nightmare. Jim quickly saddled his horse and rode off in search of his partner, a feeling of dread knotting his stomach.

Artemus found young Tucker poking at a meal in a small restaurant. He hesitated for a moment and then he went in. Artemus slowly approached the young man and flinched when he stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.

"It's all right, I just want to talk to you. Please, sit…I have some questions I need to ask you," something in Artemus' voice made the young man right his chair and sit.

"Talk, Mr. Gordon for all the good it will do you," was the icy reply.

"Just hear me out…if you still want to kill me when I'm done then I will go to my grave knowing that I at least tried to make some sense of all this."

"I have tried to remember your father but I can't…I just can't. I went to the President's office and got the files regarding the battle at Shiloh and I've read them a dozen times over. Nothing rings any bells with me. I have no memory of that last day at Shiloh. Did your father write you a letter or anything telling you about what might have happened before he…" Artemus let the sentence trail off.

"How convenient for you, Mr. Gordon. My pa is dead and you don't even remember him!"

"I truly am sorry…I had typhoid fever…they say I was lucky to live. I guess I must have blocked out some of the memories from that day. All I can say is that I'm sorry…I'm truly sorry."

"Well sorry just isn't good enough, Gordon. My ma gets a pittance from the government in place of my father but it isn't the same. Ma misses pa something terrible. She goes on the best she can…but it's been hard…real hard. My ma was once the prettiest lady this side of the Atlantic…but now she's only a shell. A shell of who she used to be."

"You didn't just kill my pa, Gordon, you killed her too. I want to see you die for this!" he shoved his chair back and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Not as much as I want to die right now, son," Artemus whispered as he left.

Jim arrived at the train hoping to find Artemus waiting there for him. His meeting with the President had taken him much longer than he had anticipated and getting back on Artemus' trail had been harder than he thought. He pulled his horse into his stall and was shocked to find Artie's horse gone. Jim left his horse saddled, just in case, and headed to the parlor car.

When he entered the room he was amazed. It looked as though it had been ransacked. Files littered the table and floor; books had been dumped on the floor. He crossed to the desk and became alarmed when he spotted the note his partner had left him. _Jim, young Tucker was right…I am pretty certain I am to blame for his father's death. There is one more person whom I think I might be able to talk to that just might be able to shed some light on this for me. I know you don't want me going off alone but don't worry. I had a talk with Ben today (that's Tucker's son) and I think we both came away with something to think about. I did find out he's staying at the Canal House oddly enough right across from the White House. I'm going to take a ride and I hope come back with some answers I should return within a few days. Don't be too mad at me, pal. I have to do this…I have to know. We'll talk when I get back. Artemus_

Jim but his lip to suppress the scream of rage that was threatening to come out like the water from a geyser. A thought came to him and he quickly sent a telegram…surprised when he received an almost immediate response. He quickly wrote the response down and tapped out his reply and acknowledgment, grabbed his coat and hat and headed back to town.

Early the next morning, Jim stood outside the door to room number 14 at the Canal House. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door, hoping to find its occupant in. He heard a rustling sound and the door slowly opened. The man stared at him waiting for him to speak.

"Are you Ben Tucker?" Jim asked knowingly.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"My name's James West. You know my partner, Artemus Gordon. I'd like to talk to you about him if I may."

"You can talk all you want it's not gonna change anything. I'm still gonna kill Mr. Gordon," the young face glared back at Jim.

"Can I come in?" Jim gently pushed on the door, "This probably isn't a conversation you'd like the whole town to hear."

"Sure, fine, whatever…" Tucker held the door open and Jim entered the room.

He took a seat in the only chair and waited for Tucker to sit on the bed. After he finally decided this man wouldn't go away until he said his piece, Tucker sat on the bed and stared defiantly at Jim.

"How old were you when your father died?" Jim began.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything but I was seven, Mr. West."

"Seven is pretty young to understand a lot of things. Did your mother ever explain what happened to your father to you?"

"My ma told me everything I needed to know. She told me not to blame Mr. Gordon…that he only did he job. She told me my pa had a real hard head sometimes and some of the things he said about Mr. Gordon weren't true. But my pa wasn't a liar! He wasn't!" Tucker rose off the bed and began to pace.

"No one is saying your pa was a liar, Ben. All I'm asking is for you to hear Artie's side of it before you make a big mistake," Jim pleaded.

"I heard his side of things. The man claims he has no recollection of that day. He is hiding behind the excuse that he was sick," Tucker spat.

"And you don't believe him?" Jim questioned.

"Hell no, I don't believe one word of it. Would you believe a man when he tells you he can remember every detail of a battle and he can remember hundreds of wounded he tended to but he can't remember one man in particular? I find that a little too convenient."

"War is strange. It affects different people in different ways. Artie WAS very sick with typhoid fever. He treated hundreds of wounded men the best he could. He isn't a doctor…he wasn't prepared to treat your father but he didn't have a choice…"

"He didn't give my pa any choice about living or dying so I don't see no need to give Mr. Gordon one," Tucker was pacing again.

"Ben if you won't listen to me will you at least listen to the General your father put so much of his faith in?" Jim had risen and grasped Tucker's arm.

"In case you hadn't noticed that General is now the President of These United States. How the hell can you get in to see him let alone get him to talk to me?" Tucker glared, daring him.

"Simple, we go across the street and we ask him. That is why you chose this particular hotel isn't it? You were hoping to get a chance to see Grant…" Jim glared back at the young man.

"Yeah, I guess so…but what makes you so damned sure he'll see you. I've tried to see him every day for the past week."

"Let's just say I have a way of getting things done. Grab your coat and hat and let's go…the President is a busy man and he doesn't have all day."


	5. Chapter 5

Artie pulled the paper from the file out of his pocket and checked the address written on it again. He was tired but decided he needed to do this now. Artie had ridden hard for a day to get here then he had spent the past day and a half looking around town, wearing out a good pair of boots, and had asked almost everyone in town before he found anyone who could tell him where to find this place. His hand was shaking as he reached up to knock on the weather beaten and worn door. After his knock there was a pause then a lady answered, wiping her hands on an apron.

"Hello…can I help you with something?" She said with a smile.

"I hope so Mrs. Tucker. May I come in?" Artemus spoke softly as he removed his hat.

"By all means…Mr.…"

"Gordon, Artemus Gordon ma'am," Artemus supplied hoping she didn't throw him right back out.

"Gordon…seems I remember that name from somewhere," She said as she offered him some coffee.

"Yes ma'am. I worked with your husband John during the war."

"Oh that must be it then. Come and sit down you must be tired you look like you've traveled a long way."

"Yes, ma'am I did come a long way. There are some things I was hoping you could tell me…about your husband."

Jim and Ben walked up to the President's secretary's desk and Ben wasn't sure if he was impressed or shocked when the secretary smiled at Jim as if she knew him. He was even more surprised when they were told the President was waiting in his office for them. Jim ushered him into the office.

"Mr. President…" Jim stood at attention waiting to be acknowledged, finally Grant turned to him.

"James glad to see you back so soon," Grant extended his hand and Jim shook it.

"This is Benjamin Tucker, sir. He's…"

"John Tucker's son…you don't need to tell me who this lad is, Mr. West. He's the spitting image of his father. Hello, son…" Grant extended his hand to the young man who nimbly shook it.

"Hel…hello, sir," Tucker replied as Grant waved them to their seats.

"James here tells me you have a few questions about your father's death that you need cleared up," Grant stated.

"Well, yes sir. I waited until I was old enough to go after the man that killed my pa on my own. My ma…she just doesn't understand," Tucker began.

"Son, your ma sounds like she understand a whole lot more than most folks do when it comes to the war."

"Ma showed me all the letters my pa wrote home about what was going on in that war. I know all I need to know."

"And that would be?" Grant demanded.

"That Mr. Gordon caused my pa's death and it was no accident. And I know that I will make him pay for what he's done. My God, sir, he claims he doesn't even remember my father!" Jim reached out to calm Tucker.

"Son, I don't mean to belittle what your father may have told you…but that's just one side of a war that has as many sides as it had participants. Before you go off half cocked and trying to kill not only one of my best agents but one of my close personal friends I think you better listen to another side of the story."

Tucker clamped his jaw shut to keep from shouting all the hateful things he had practiced back in his hotel room and let the President speak. Grant told him about his father working for him and he wasn't sugar coating anything for Ben's benefit. He laid it on the line for the young man and Jim could see it was a bitter pill for the young man to swallow. But to his credit, Tucker sat still and seemed to be listening to President Grant describe his father in much greater detail than his mother had been able to do.

Grant reiterated his earlier conversation with Jim and added a few details that Jim found surprising…they had not even been mentioned in any of the files Jim had seen. He told Ben about his father's heroism as well as his stubborn streak. He recalled the events leading up to the battle with the Confederate Army that eventually took his father's life. When Grant told him about Artemus' part in the battle, about his heated arguments with his father, Jim was sure Tucker would come unglued. But he just sat rigidly in his chair.

When Grant finished his story he looked calmly and coolly at Ben, making sure his words had sunk in. Ben just stared at a point on the front of the desk, not wanting to make eye contact. Grant let him think for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Son, I can't let you see the files…those are sealed government documents. But if you still have any questions I would be happy to try to answer them."

"If everything you say is true, why would my pa lie to me? Why would he say all those mean things about Mr. Gordon and why would he ask me to kill him?"

"I can't rightly say. War does strange things to people. Makes them act in ways they wouldn't normally act, say things they wouldn't normally say and do things they otherwise wouldn't normally do."

"I can tell you this. I was there that day. I saw the arguments between your father and Mr. Gordon. Those two fought like cats and dogs…but when it came right down to it they were both ready and willing to fight side by side and do what needed to be done."

"But why did my pa hate him so? He had to feel he had a good reason to."

"And maybe your pa thought he did. Your pa saw this young officer, not much older than yourself, as a threat. John Tucker was the best of the best, son. He was my top aide and I had great plans for him. But for some reason he felt Mr. Gordon was a threat to those plans. And he dealt with that threat the only way he knew how," Jim chose this point in the conversation to finally speak.

"Ben, I think your father was afraid Artie would take his place with the President and he wrote that letter you told us about in a fit of anger. If your father were alive today do you think he would be seeking his revenge against Mr. Gordon?"

"I…I don't know. Why was my ma never told any of this?" Tucker asked skeptically.

"I had the records sealed. That was one of the costliest battles of the whole war. Almost 24,000 men were wounded or died during that battle. I thought that was enough and I ordered the records sealed. It has been brought to my attention that in doing so I might have made an even bigger mistake than I would have by letting them get out. I do hope you can accept my deepest apologies," Grant said serenely, Tucker just stared at him open mouthed.

"Sir, did my father die a hero like the papers said or did he die a coward's death?"

"Son, your father died, like so many others, a hero's death. I think he lashed out at Mr. Gordon in his final hours more as a way to purge his soul, to feel at ease with his own mortality than anything else. I knew your father well; I really don't think he harbored any ill will toward Mr. Gordon."

"If I am to believe everything you tell me then I may have more than just a fence or two to mend with Mr. Gordon."

"I am sure that can be arranged, Benjamin," Grant looked to Jim.

"Speaking of your wayward partner, Mr. West…where is Mr. Gordon? Please tell me he isn't still drinking?" Grant looked at him hopefully.

"No sir, at least not when I saw him last…Artie was…" Jim stopped not quite sure how to continue.

"Nothing is ever cut and dried with you two is it, Mr. West? Where is Artemus?"

"Well, sir…I'm not quite sure…"

"What do you mean you're not quite sure? Don't tell me you let him wander off on his own after our conversation!" Grant raised his voice scaring Tucker.

"Not exactly sir, you see when I got up this morning I found this note…" Jim handed the note to the President who quickly scanned it, "Artie was gone and so was a page from one of the files."

"Do you know which file, Mr. West?" Grant tried to keep his voice calm.

"I brought the file with me…" Jim pulled the file out and opened it to a certain page, "this is where the file was open to, sir. It's a list of some kind I was hoping someone here could tell me what was on the page he took."

Grant scanned the file, the color draining from him face as he did so. He rose from the desk, went out to his secretary's desk and quickly spoke to his secretary who nearly tripped in her haste to complete whatever task he had given her. Grant returned to his chair and faced the men.

"James, if you still have your guardian angel wings I think you'd better get them out. Artemus is headed ass over teakettle into what could be a rather messy Pandora's box," Grant's expression turned grim causing all of Jim's alarm bells to sound.

"Sir?" Jim questioned.

"If I'm right he's headed to see Tucker's widow to get some answers. The only problem is will he be asking the right questions or will he open that can of worms in his mixed up brain?" Jim rose to his feet quickly.

"Permission to leave, sir." Jim stated more than asked.

"Not so fast, Mr. West. I sent my secretary to get the backup copy of this file. If Artemus did indeed remove the page I think he did, then you will know exactly where to find Artemus. Sit back down and wait, Mr. West."


	6. Chapter 6

"Mrs. Tucker…are you sure about that? I mean I don't remember any of that last day at Shiloh, but I think I would remember wanting to cause harm to your husband," Artemus sounded forlorn.

"Yes, Mr. Gordon I'm sure of what I told you. John took your presence as a definite threat. Once you were transferred in his letters became bitter and full of resentment but I don't really think he meant it to be aimed at you."

"John was a very prideful man. He was as stubborn as the day is long and that stubbornness usually got the better of him. In one letter in particular he wrote about how General Grant told him he saw a lot of the qualities he admired in John in you. That seemed to send John off on a tangent. He was certain the only thing you were concerned with was taking his position at Grant's side."

"But I never…"Artemus interrupted.

"Talking with you today, Mr. Gordon I know that was the furthest thing from your mind and if John were here he would know that too. John usually talked or acted first and thought never. I told him it would be his undoing but I am sorry to say it just might be his son's as well."

"Mrs. Tucker my partner is back in Washington D.C. and since your son didn't follow me here I can only assume Jim was able to find a way to keep him there. Maybe he can talk some sense into him."

"Mr. Gordon, I sincerely hope so. The last letter we received before we heard about John was so filled with hate. A hate for the war…a hate for all the killing…and I'm sorry to say a hate for you," Mrs. Tucker rose and left the room.

Artemus could hear her rummaging in a drawer. She returned with a stack of envelopes, which she handed to him. Artemus realized these were the letters they had received from John. He didn't feel right looking at them but she assured him he needed to read them. To see the war through John's eyes and maybe he could find a way to explain it to her son. Artemus sat at the table reading the letters, doing his best to skip over the more personal notes.

These letters showed a very personal side of the war. They showed the every day struggle of a man against a nation. A man against a nation he cherished above all else. A nation that was divided to its very soul. A nation embroiled in a war that never should have been allowed to get so out of hand that it pitted brother against brother…father against son…uncle against nephew. As Artemus continued to read he came to realize that he had been Tuckers antipathies. Artemus had been everything Tucker wished he could be but for the sake of his country had chosen a different path. In the letters Tucker described Artemus as the ultimate soldier. Always doing what he was told how and when he was told not questioning his orders…only questioning things when it concerned the safety of the men. Tucker had worked hard and spent untold amounts of blood, sweat and tears to get where he was and Artemus had waltzed in and seemed to have an instant rapport with Grant that had taken Tucker months to build.

Tucker had resented the brash young officer at first and his letters home were scathing when it came to him. Artemus swallowed and forced himself to keep reading. With every letter Tucker's resentment seemed to grow but Artemus could tell it really wasn't aimed at him as much as Tucker just needed to put a face to the invisible enemy he was fighting within. As he reached for the last letter, Mrs. Tucker put out her hand to stop him.

"Mr. Gordon, this is the last letter we got from John. He must have written it before he went into that last battle. He was very angry…" Mrs. Tucker seemed to be apologizing for her husband.

Artemus opened the letter and began to read…_My dearest Joan, Today we go into what could be a deciding battle. Grant wants me to lead the troops into the gates of hell and yet again that irritating ass Lt. Gordon questions my strategies and my troop movements. I have half a mind to tell him to take the men himself but if I do that there is no doubt in my mind that he would do just that and he would come back smelling like a rose. Damn, I hate him! He makes everything look so damned easy. I worked and scraped for what I have accomplished and he seems to make this whole damned war look like a walk in the park. If I return from this battle I have decided it is time to have it out with him. I need to tell him just what I think about his devil may care attitude. I know the man is sick, we all are to one degree or another…but that is no excuse for his arguing with me when I am his superior. I have left a letter for General Grant in the event I do not make it back…outlining what I think are some very viable strategies to win this blood bath and put an end to this war. Too many men have died; too many are going home less than a man…_

_If I do not come home to you my darling know this…I love you with all my heart and I love my son as well. I do not really blame Lt. Gordon for his part in this travesty but I will ask that I be avenged if he has any small part to play in my demise. How do you tell a soldier you envy him when he is everything you have aspired your entire career to be and his career has barely begun?_

All my love, John 

Artemus carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He wiped the tears from his eyes as Joan sat watching him. She could see what her John had seen in this man before her. She saw the empathy for her husband, the pain in his eyes. She saw what many did upon closer inspection. That Artemus Gordon was a man who would pay any price and probably had over and over again, to ensure the safety of his beloved country and the men who fought for it.

"Mr. Gordon," she started when she could find her voice, "I can't recall the number of times I read that letter to my son. As he grew up hating you…I kept telling him that wasn't what his father wanted but all he could see or hear was that last paragraph."

"Mrs. Tucker…" Artemus spoke softly, "I can fully see why your son wants me dead and based on what I've read here I can't really say that I blame him."

"But, Mr. Gordon, that is not the whole story. General Grant sent me a letter, as did several others detailing my husband's service and his death. They told the other side of the story. The side Benjamin refuses to listen to."

"They tell of John ordering you to tend to the sick and wounded to get back at you even when you were sick yourself. They tell of your own sacrifices to the war. They tell of the conflict between you and John."

"Some of the letters even told of John's final moments after he cursed you," Artemus' head snapped up at her latest revelation.

"Yes, Mr. Gordon, he did curse you but he also praised you to a fellow officer. John told him that you had done all you could to save him but he was too far gone and he had known it. He told the officer to look out for you that you would be General Grant's new protégé and confidant. He told the officer you were the best of the best and that wearing your heart on your sleeve might not be such a bad thing after all."

"I had no idea…" Artemus pained look said more than any words he could find.

"I tried to show those letters to Benjamin but he wasn't interested in them. All he cared about was allowing his hatred to fester until it overwhelmed him. It burned in him night and day and it drove him to become the hardhearted shell of a man that you met."

"I am only too sorry I couldn't reach him in time," Mrs. Tucker wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Mrs. Tucker it wasn't your fault. That war…well…it did things to men. It changed the course of everything we held dear. I wish that war had never been fought, but it was and nothing can change that. Do you still have those other letters? Maybe I can get Benjamin to read them with President Grant and maybe he can help clear the air."

"No, I don't some time ago Benjamin took them and burned them saying they were lies told by his father's enemies to save you. Maybe talking to President Grant could help Benjamin that is another reason why he went to Washington…but how can you get my Benjamin in to see President Grant?"

"Oh I still have a little bit of pull with the Old Man," Artemus grinned slightly.

"You must have a lot more then just a little pull if you can call the President of the United States Old Man, Mr. Gordon."

"Well truth be told, I kind of work for him. But I can talk to him and see what I can do for your son. I just know it would help things if I could just remember what happened," Artemus intoned.

"I have always believed it just wasn't meant to be. Some things are just better left alone, Mr. Gordon," Artemus stared open-mouthed at her.

"You know a friend of mine was trying to tell me the very same thing but I couldn't hear it when he said it," thinking of Jim, Artemus realized the trouble he would be in with his partner when he got back.

"I have taken up more than enough of your time, Mrs. Tucker. I really should be on my way," Artemus stood and stumbled unsteadily toward the door.

"Nonsense, Mr. Gordon. You must stay for supper. I made plenty and by the looks of you I would say you've been more or less drinking your meals while dealing with your own inner demons since my son stirred the pot."

"Uh…er…well…be that as it may I really do need to get back. I told my partner I would only be gone a day or two and it took me longer to find you than I thought. I've been gone too long and I do need to get back."

"All right, Mr. Gordon, I do understand. When you see my Benjamin give him this letter from me and tell him to please hurry home." Mrs. Tucker handed him an envelope, which he put in his coat pocket.


	7. Chapter 7

Artemus stared into the flames sipping his coffee, wishing it were something much stronger. He had run out of whiskey earlier in the day and his mood was turning sullen again. He was glad he had found this small rock formation, it wouldn't give him the protection from the elements that a hotel room would have but Artemus was in no mood to be around people. This rock provided him shelter from the falling snow on two sides and he had felt that was better than none.

He refilled his cup and stared into the flames trying to will his mind to recall that terrible day. Mrs. Tucker had done everything she could to reassure him that she had no hard feelings toward him; that she had understood the anger her husband was directing at Artemus was unfounded. Artemus had assured her he believed her all the while knowing he didn't. _How can anyone not hate me for what I might have done? Could I have hated a man so much that I allowed him to die?_ Artie shook his head, grabbed his blanket and went to sleep. He had only been asleep less than an hour when it began…

"So much blood…where's that help?" Artemus moaned in his sleep, "Corporal…aren't those doctors here yet? I was told they would be here hours ago," Artemus was tossing and turning.

"Sorry Lieutenant, the Rebs have the bridge blocked and they can't get through. General Grant said to just keep doing the best you can…they're trying to sneak them across."

"Great Balls of St. Elmo's fire I'm not a doctor…I don't know what I'm doing here…" Artemus grumbled to the soldier as he tended to the wounded.

There was a commotion outside the tent and Artemus was called for. He ran to see what the fuss was about and his face lost all color. There on the stretcher lay Commander Tucker, or what was left of him. Artemus' stomach churned as he tried to examine him. His body was a bloody and battered mess. He had been in the center of a cannon ball barrage. Artemus didn't think he would live to see the next morning.

"Damn, this is bad…real bad. I don't know if I am capable of helping him. Put him in the tent I have to finish with Latimer then I'll see what I can do with him."

"Lieutenant, don't you think the Commander should be looked after first?" The soldier spat at him.

"Son, right now I have a man on that table in there that I am pretty sure will live to see morning. I don't know if I can help Commander Tucker but I know I can help Latimer…he's already open and he'll die for sure if I don't go back in there and finish what I started," Artemus returned to the operating table ignoring the soldiers glare.

"No…no…it didn't happen like that…I don't remember saying that…" Artemus cried, grappling with his dream…

Artemus sewed young Latimer up the best he could and sat down for a brief rest while the table was cleaned up and made ready for the next patient. _Damn, I'm sick of this…all this blood…and for what? So one half of the nation can say it beat the other half into submission? Why can't wars be fought in a more civilized way?_ Artemus leaned out of the tent and threw up for what he thought was the millionth time that day before heading back in to tend to more wounded and battered bodies.

Artemus stared down at the patient, his stomach churning. If this particular patient died on his table he was certain many would call it murder. Would they be wrong? Artemus had tried to see this man as just another patient but every argument he had had with him over the past few days played through his fever ridden mind. Yes, Artemus had resented the Commander at first, maybe even despised him, but he had come to respect him as an officer and a gentleman but who would believe that?

He knew there was only one option open to him with this man…the doctor that had stopped by the tent earlier had given him a book and told him to follow the steps to the letter…something Artemus wasn't sure he could do without a few gallons of whiskey under his belt. But the doctor had told him there was nothing that could be done and there was no way this man would survive until the morning when the other doctors would get there if he didn't operate.

He propped the book open and had the shaking Corporal try to steady his hand. Artemus shook his head as he looked at the vast array of saws, hammers, chisels and other instruments he didn't even want to think about what they might be used for. He had cleaned Tuckers wounds the best he could and cut the flap of skin loose that he would use to cover the wound he was about to make. Artemus drew in a deep breath and picked up the saw that suddenly became as heavy as a granite slab in his hand.

He lined up the saw and was about to make his cut…he looked up to the face of the man he respected as much as he despised…suddenly the stern and hardened face of John Tucker turned into the pleading face of James West.

"Why Artie…why? What did I ever do to you? I thought we were friends, pal?" James pleaded with him, "Why are you going to kill me? Why, Artie, why?"

Artemus sat upright quickly, sweat pouring off him in buckets despite the cold temperatures around him. He looked around, his eyes slowly focusing on his surroundings…_yes, it had just been a dream…no a nightmare_. He moved to the fire and got it going again. Morning was still several hours off but for Artemus the day was beginning much like the last few…far too early. He made some more coffee and watched the flames, not daring to try to go back to sleep…the nightmares would only continue to plague him.

Jim started and sat upright. He had the feeling that Artie was in terrible trouble. He was sweating in spite of having moved away from the fire while he slept. Jim moved back by the fire, lay wrapped in his blanket next to the fire, staring into the flames. He hoped his partner was smart enough to be snuggly tucked into a nice warm bed in a hotel. Jim was mentally kicking himself…Ben had done everything he could to try and make up for the trouble he had caused but Jim felt his effort was being wasted when it was Artie he should be making things up to.

Knowing he wouldn't get anymore sleep tonight, he probably wouldn't sleep much at all until he had Artie safely home with him where he belonged, Jim stoked the fire and made some coffee. It would be daylight soon and they could once again get on the trail of his partner.

Shortly before dawn Ben stirred, the smell of coffee luring him from his slumber. He stared across the fire taking in Jim's stony face and grim expression. He knew he had to do something to make things right. He sat up and leaned over the fire warming his hands.

"Mr. West, can I ask you something?" he ventured.

"Sure you can always ask, whether or not I answer remains to be seen," came the stoic reply.

"What is so special about Mr. Gordon? Don't get me wrong I know he's your partner and all and that you are really close friends…what I mean is what is it about him that makes everybody like him but my pa?"

"I've been thinking about my pa and Mr. Gordon and the war ever since I can remember but mostly since I met President Grant and talked to him and what little you will tell me…well, it just seems that a lot of people, powerful people are going out of their way to spare him pain. I just want to know why," Jim looked at him and realization finally set in.

"Son, Artie is more than just a soldier…just a man…just an agent. He's everything to everyone. Artie does what he thinks is right and he says what he feels needs to be said. He will argue with you till he's blue in the face if he thinks you're wrong but at the same time he'll stand by your side and steadfastly defend your right to say what you want and think what you want."

"Artemus Gordon IS the ultimate person. He is what we all want to be when we grow up…just most of us never make it," Jim whispered this last comment as he pushed a twig into the fire.

"Mr. West, I don't know if you will believe me or not but I truly am sorry for all the trouble I caused. I'm especially sorry the trouble this has caused Mr. Gordon. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was in the restaurant but my damn stubborn pride kept me from telling him. Maybe if I had we wouldn't need to be here. Guess ma was right," Jim looked at him long and hard before he spoke.

"We all say things we don't mean to that's part of life…it's how we deal with the problems we create that makes us men."

"It'll be light soon drink some coffee then we can get going. I'd like to try to find Artie today if I can."

Artie saddled and mounted his horse, hoping to be back to the train by tomorrow night. He was cold, wet and miserable and he hoped being back on the train in familiar surroundings would help ease his torment. He rode down the trail seemingly oblivious to the snowflakes beginning to fall.

Near noon Artie pulled his horse to a stop to drink from his canteen, again wishing it were something stronger than water. He put the stopper back into the top and glanced up the trail. Just coming around the bend were two riders, it appeared they were engaged in casual conversation. One of the riders looked up, noted Artemus and spurred his horse into a gallop.

"Artie!" Jim shouted a smile spread across his features.

"James?" Artie questioned as Jim and Ben pulled up to him.

"Artie, I hoped we would find you but I wasn't expecting to see you out here. How did things go?" Jim asked hesitantly, seeing Artie's drawn look.

"Fine, Jim, fine."

"Then why do you look like you haven't slept in a week or eaten in two?" Jim questioned.

"Because, MOTHER, I slept under a rock last night," Artie hoped his friend would let it go but it was not to be.

"You slept…why Artie?" Jim demanded.

"I just didn't feel like sleeping in the hotel, Jim. I just want to get back to the train as soon as possible, okay?" Artie steered his horse toward home.

"Sure, pal. President Grant is most anxious to talk to you anyway," Jim grinned.

"Oh great, I suppose the Old Man is fit to be tied that I disobeyed yet another order of his…you'd think he'd be used to it by now," Artie grumped, Ben nudged Jim who nodded.

"Won't the President get pissed at you calling him an Old Man?" Ben asked.

"What can he do? Drum me out of the Service? Let him stew," Artie replied.

"Mr. Gordon…" Ben began, "I think we need to talk."

"I happen to have nothing better to do at the moment so talk away."


	8. Chapter 8

Jim slowed his horse to give Artie and Ben time to talk privately and he brought up the rear. He was glad that it appeared Artie had at least made some sort of peace with his demons but Jim was sure it wasn't over. He watched his partner and friend talking with the young man, telling him what he remembered about his father, Jim noted that Artie stayed completely away from describing anything having to do with his father's last day.

Jim was becoming increasingly worried about his partner as the day wore on. Artie and Ben seemed to have patched things up, but Artie was still uncharacteristically quiet. To Jim he looked haggard and drawn…Jim was certain he had neither ate nor slept well since this ordeal began, something he would remedy as soon as they got back to the train. His resolve intensified when Artie refused to stop for lunch grumbling that he just wanted to get as close to Washington D.C. as they could before nightfall since it looked like the snow was not going to let up just for them. Jim acquiesced, settling for a piece of jerky and water from his canteen.

Finally just before nightfall they came across a small wooded area with a clearing. Jim demanded they rest the horses and themselves. Artie just glared, nodded and dismounted. He tied his horse to a nearby tree and set about gathering firewood. Jim had tried several times to engage his friend in conversation but Artie refused. He kept a close eye on him throughout the evening.

Artie had taken an extra blanket and made a sort of lean-to. He opened some beans and threw in some salt pork and sat by the fire waiting for the coffee to heat. He knew Jim was watching him and it made him mad while at the same time making him heel safe somehow. Artie stirred the coffee, idly listening to the small talk between Ben and his partner.

He could see how easy it would be to be friends with Ben Tucker. Once they had put this ugly incident behind them he seemed to really open up and he genuinely wanted to be friends. Artie had told him all was forgiven and forgotten if only he could believe that himself.

"Hey, Artie, you going to let those beans boil over or are you going to share them with the rest of us?" Jim asked jokingly trying to draw his friend out.

"What? Oh, sorry, Jim," Artie replied as he spooned beans onto the plates.

"Thanks, pal, eat up you look like you could use it."

"I'll eat as much as I want Mother Hen," Artie glared with a twinkle in his eye.

"Are you two always like this?" Ben asked.

"Not always," Jim smirked, "sometimes Artie gets real nasty," Artie just glared and rolled his eyes.

After they had eaten, Jim noting that Artie spooned some of his back into the pan when Ben had inquired about seconds, Jim stocked up on firewood for the long cold night ahead. They settled around the campfire sipping coffee, chatting about Washington D.C. at Christmas time. Artie seemed content to merely listen and only commented occasionally. Jim saw he was tired and suggested they all get some sleep and be on their way early in the morning.

"Ben are you going to go on to your home or are you going back to Washington D.C. with us?" Jim asked.

"I thought I would go back with you if that's all right. I saw some things in a window I'd like to get my mother for Christmas. And I'd like to look around town a bit as well," Ben looked at Jim hopeful.

"I don't see that being a problem, do you Artie?"

"No, he could probably get some nicer things in Washington for his mother than he could get at the local mercantile. If you gentlemen don't mind I think I will turn in it's been a long few days on the road for me," Artie said as he grabbed his blanket and pulled away from the fire.

"Not at all, Artie. And pal…pleasant dreams," Jim smiled; Artie hoped he had kept the shocked look off his face as Jim's comment had rattled him.

"Same to you, pal."

Artie knew Jim was worried when he took his blanket and moved away from the warmth of the fire but Artie knew he had to sleep away from them. He didn't want to risk having another nightmare like last night's. Especially when Jim was obviously so damned well into his Mother Hen mode. Artie pulled the blanket up around his neck and tried to get comfortable on the cold, unforgiving ground. _The ground has the right idea, _Artie thought, _I know Ben has forgiven but I can't seem to forgive myself nor can I seem to forget. I wanted the memories of that last day back and now that they are coming back all I want is to forget them._ Artie sighed and slipped into a fitful sleep.

Ben and Jim jolted awake shortly after midnight. Ben pulled his gun and looked around. Jim was already up on his feet surveying the surrounding area. The noise they had heard sounded like a wounded animal…the shriek sounding eerie in the forest surrounded by the blanket of snow.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" This time they looked directly at the source…Artemus was rocking back and forth under his blanket.

"No, Jim I swear…I would never…could never…" Ben rose and went to shake him.

"No, Ben…you never wake a man in a nightmare like that. You need to wake him slowly."

Jim crossed to his friend and knelt beside him. He steadied his rocking friend, alarmed at how clammy his skin was and that he was sweating even though it was so cold they could see their breaths. He gently shook Artemus, talking soothingly and calmly to him.

"NO, go away! I'm not equipped for this! I'm not a doctor… I can't take his leg…he's…he's my commander for God's sake!" Jim realized he must be reliving the long hidden memories of Tucker's operation, he put up a silencing finger to Ben.

"Let's not wake him just yet…I think he needs to work this out on his own."

Ben nodded but didn't move away from Artemus. He was shaking and still rocking and Jim wished for all he was worth that his partner would wake up. Artie's expression changed to one of somber finality. Jim saw the tears falling freely and wished there was something he could do to help his partner.

"Corporal?" Artie said sadly, Jim whispered to Ben to be the Corporal.

"I'm here, sir," Ben replied.

"Oh thank God, I need your help…the Commander…his leg…it's bad…real bad…too bad. I can't do anything for him. It's not right… this whole damn war is not right."

"No, sir, it's not," Ben said not knowing what else to say, Jim nodded at him to keep Artie talking.

"What can I do to help you, sir?" Ben asked.

"What this book says to do…I can't…it's too barbaric," Artie's rocking was increasing to the point where Jim thought he might harm himself.

"What does the book tell you to do, maybe I can help."

"The book…it says…I can't…I just can't," Artie cried.

"Sir whatever you do will be for the best. You are just doing what you were ordered to do," Ben was crying himself now, realizing that he too was getting to relive his fathers final hours and getting rid of some of his burden as well.

"I can't cut his leg off…what if I don't do it right…"

"Sir, you can't worry about that…you just do what you know needs to be done and let the rest take care of itself. The Commander trusts you, sir…if he didn't he would bleed to death before he would let you work on him," Jim could see the toll this was taking on them both and hoped it would cleanse them of their demons.

"I know you're right…but…if he doesn't make it…"

"Don't let whatif's get in your way Lieutenant…my fath…the Commander believes in you…you need to trust and believe in yourself."

"If he doesn't make it they'll think I killed him. They all think I hate him but I don't. I respect him greatly…but…"

"But nothing, sir. You just do this and I know things will work out in the end the way they are meant to," Ben had moved to Artie's side and held him in his lap, gently rocking him, tears streaming down his face.

Jim watched the scene unfold before him and realized for the first time just how much Artie had had to deal with during the war. He had even more respect for his partner than he ever had before. He also knew that now that the memories had been unlocked to him that Artie could truly begin the road to healing and putting this gruesome memory in the past where it belonged.

Ben continued to rock Artie and speak softly to him. Finally Artie stirred and rolled over to find himself in Ben's lap. His eyes focused and he realized what must have happened.

"James, care to explain what's going on?" Artie looked between the two men.

"Allow me, Mr. West," Ben said, "Mr. Gordon you had a nightmare. It was like I was right there with you…seeing what you saw. What you went through that night…it…it must have been awful," tears still streamed down Ben's face.

Artemus struggled to sit up, wiped his own face and sat staring into the fire for a long moment. Jim could see his friend trying to suppress the shivering that was shaking him to the center of his soul.

"Now I remember a lot more of that night than I did before. It WAS terrible. Not enough doctors…blood everywhere…I remember throwing up all day. Then when they started bringing the wounded in…" Artie paused and wrapped the blanket tighter around him, his gaze fixed on the flames.

"Latimer had been pretty easy he only had a bullet in him. Then they put your father on that table and everything changed. I could feel their glares and their stares cutting through me."

"They all thought I had left him for later in hopes that he would just do me a favor and die…it wasn't like that…I never wanted anyone to die. I had to finish Latimer…he came first. He was already on the table…" Artie shook his head as if trying to erase the memory.

"Mr. Gordon, I know now that you never meant to kill my father. I know it's not in your heart to intentionally harm anyone. Please believe me when I say I'm truly sorry for all the trouble I caused. Ma and everyone was right this was something better just left alone."

"I believe you, son, I do…" Artie let his voice trail off.

"Pal why don't you try to get some more sleep? It's still a while till morning and you look like you could use some," Jim tried.

"Yeah, I'll try," Artie laid back down and pulled the blanket tight.

Jim watched his partner for a time, knowing he wasn't asleep. Jim was glad that at least Artie had begun the long road to putting this awful memory where it belonged…in the past. He was worried, however, about his friend's mental state. Artie gave great lip service to him and Ben trying to reassure them he was dealing with it, but Jim could see the toll it was taking on him. _Damnit, Artie, you've got to stop being so thick headed and let me help you._ Jim waited until he heard the steady breathing indicating his friend was asleep before laying down himself.

The next morning Jim woke to find Artie saddling the last horse. How long he had been awake Jim didn't know but it looked to be a while. Artie had some coffee on the fire and some beans and bacon. To all outward appearances Artie seemed at ease, but Jim knew him better. Artie was still silent, moving about and making ready to get under way while trying not to meet his partner's gaze.

Jim poured a cup of coffee for himself and Ben, who had risen and joined him. They sat by the fire waiting for Artie to finish so they could eat. Ben eyed Artie and motioned toward him with his head. Jim just shook his head and examined his coffee…wishing for all the world that he could tell Ben Artie would soon be back to his normal self but he couldn't be sure of that just yet.

Artie joined them at the fire and filled his cup and took a sip of the hot brew. He wanted to get on their horses and headed for Washington as soon as possible. He finished his cup, tossed the last little bit into the snow. He spooned beans and bacon onto plates and handed them to Jim and Ben. Getting glares from Jim when he didn't make a plate for himself.

"I ate already waiting for you two Cinderella's to rise and shine," Artie retorted.

"If you say so, pal. Are we stopping for a lunch break today or will it be jerky and water again?" Jim remarked trying to get a reaction out of him.

"That will depend on how long you sit here jawing instead of gnawing."


	9. Chapter 9

Artie left and went back to checking the saddles on the horses. Ben just watched him and shook his head. He had really made a mess of things but he hoped he had at least started to put things right between them. After dousing the fire, they mounted their horses and headed for home. Jim took up the rear letting Artie take the point and set the pace.

The pace Artie had set Jim was sure would wear the horses out long before they reached Washington. Jim had tried to tell him to slow the pace down a bit but all he had heard over the blowing snow and wind was "train". Jim decided not to push him and tried to keep up, hoping the horses would last.

About lunchtime Ben yelled to Artemus that he had to stop. His horse had somehow managed to pick up a rock. Artie sighed and slowed his steed. He waited patiently while Ben checked his mount. Jim rode up to meet him.

"Pal, we need to rest the horses, it's not good to run them this hard in the snow. It's really coming down and they have been working pretty hard."

"Yeah I guess you're right. We can stop by those trees for a bit."

Artie led them over to the trees and dismounted. He tied his horse to a limb and looked for some shelter from the snow. Then he set about making a small fire, on which he heated some more beans and placed a pot of coffee. Jim noticed that he kept his back to them as much as possible and went out of his way to find things to do away from the fire. When lunch was finally ready, Jim had decided he was done letting Artie play Mr. Sad and Lonely.

"Artie, here I fixed you a plate…come sit down here by the fire, you've been tending to the horses long enough…it's high time you tended to yourself," Jim said in his no nonsense tone that Artie understood fully.

"Sure, Jim," he took his seat and poked at the beans.

"Come on pal, eat up. The sooner you clean your plate the sooner we can be back on the trail and on the way toward home," Jim tried his best smile.

"I know what you're up to James and it's not what you think," Artie glared.

"It's not?" Jim asked innocently, "Then would you mind telling me what's bothering you? You haven't touched your beans."

"That's the point, I've eaten nothing but beans for the last few days and if I never see another bean it will be too soon!" Artie grumped as he glared at him, Jim just chuckled.

"Well, only a while longer then we'll be back home and you can cook anything your heart desires…as long as you eat a healthy portion of it," Jim glared back.

Artie knew better than to argue with him. He had pushed his partner to his limits on this trip and he wasn't so far gone that he didn't know when to back off. He ate his beans, choking down the last few bites, and quickly rose to saddle the horses. Jim just rolled his eyes and cleaned up the dishes and doused the fire. Ben walked over to Artemus and helped him with the saddle.

"Mr. Gordon, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Ben, you can always ask whether or not I answer remains to be seen," at this Ben chuckled causing Artie to glare at him.

"You and your partner really are a lot alike…he said the exact same thing to me earlier word for word," Ben said.

"Well, James does like to copy good material. Wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?" Artie kept working on the cinch, his gaze fixed.

"Yeah, I…uh…was wondering…what was my father like? I mean my ma told me but I want to know what he was really like. What he was like when you knew him on the battlefield," as soon as he had asked Ben felt like he might have put his foot in it again, judging by the look on Artemus' face.

Artie paused and stopped tightening the cinch. He gazed over the horse's back as if he were looking into the past for the answers. He thought long and hard before answering him, as much as it pained him to recall the war.

"Son, John Tucker was one hell of a hard man to please…and if you did manage to please him he never let you know it…he would just say it's about time you did the job that is expected of you as a Union soldier now get out there and do some more."

"I only worked with your father for a short time but I can honestly say that he was a fairly brilliant man. He knew more about combat and fighting men than anyone else I knew. Your father was one of the best officers I had the pleasure of working with. There is no doubt in my mind that had he lived he would have become one of this nation's greatest leaders," Artie had a pained look in his eyes and for the first time Ben had found a way to reach him.

"Mr. Gordon, I'm glad my father didn't live," Artie's stunned look gave Ben the courage to continue.

"I know now why ma always says everything happens for a reason. If my father had lived he might have sent you packing. That could have been the worst thing to happen to this country. Mr. Gordon…I think without realizing it you have taken up my fathers fight."

"You have lived your life fighting for the very same things my father claimed to hold dear. But the war was taking its toll on him…ma saw it…General Grant saw it…all those others who wrote my ma defending you saw it…this way pa went out the way he wanted to fighting for the country he believed in. You gave him what he needed most. A cause to make us all want to fight for…freedom. You gave him his freedom, Mr. Gordon and for that I will forever be in your debt."

Artie stared at the saddle for a long moment before turning to face Ben. Tears were streaming down his face as he fought to get the words he so desperately needed to say to come out. He reached out and put a hand on Ben's shoulder, relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

"Son, I did wonder for years after the war why it was my thoughts about this country changed. Why my whole outlook changed. You just hit the nail on the head for me…I think it's me who owes you a debt of gratitude…" Artie wanted to say more but his knees buckled and he sank to the ground.

"Mr. West!" Ben shouted, "Mr. Gordon's collapsed!"

Jim ran over to Ben and took his friend in his arms. He saw the look on Artie's face was one of peace and he knew instantly that Artie would be ok. He pulled him over to the fire and they made a lean-to with branches. Jim carefully placed his fallen partner under the lean-to and covered him with a blanket. He stoked the fire and asked Ben to unsaddle the horses and tie them securely to a tree.

"We'll be here a while, the horses will appreciate the rest I'm sure," Jim said.

"Mr. West," Ben said when he returned to warm himself by the fire, "what happened to him? Will Mr. Gordon be okay?"

"He'll be fine, Ben, thanks to you. Artie's a rare breed…one of a kind. He goes and goes not giving in to the need for food or sleep until he works his problem out. Then when he does he crashes and crashes hard," Jim looked at his slumbering friend.

"How long will he be asleep?"

"No telling really. Until his body is ready to let him wake up. But watch out when he does…he'll be as mad as a grisly coming out of hibernation," Jim chuckled.

"But you think he'll be okay now?"

"Yeah, I think Artie'll be okay," Jim replied with a smile.

"I saw some rabbits over yonder, I think I'll try to get us one or two for supper unless you think the shots will wake Mr. Gordon?"

"Nah, when Artie crashes an earthquake couldn't wake him. You go get us dinner if Artie's awake by then he'll love eating something besides beans."

And hour later Ben returned with several small rabbits. He cleaned, gutted and skinned them and Jim offered to cook them. Jim didn't seem too bothered when Ben asked if Mr. Gordon had stirred and he was told no. Ben set the rabbits on a makeshift spit above the flames and got some coffee going. He seemed to sense Jim's need to be near his partner no matter how much he kept reassuring Ben Artie was fine.

Suppertime came and went and Ben had cleared the dishes and made more coffee. He and Jim sat by the fire chatting…Ben had finally gotten him to open up to him more. Jim was telling Ben some of his own war stories when Jim noticed how tired he was, _at least I hope he's tired and it's not my stories boring him to sleep,_ Jim thought.

"Ben, why don't you turn in for the night? I know Artie won't like it but I'm not budging one inch until he wakes up on his own. If you want to leave and head back to home tomorrow I'll understand. I know you wanted to be home in time for Christmas but even leaving tomorrow morning you'll be late," Jim said apologetically.

"No, Mr. West, I think ma will understand. I need to see this through. Mr. Gordon was there for my pa to the best of his abilities it's the least I can do to be here for him."

"You really are just like your pa," they pulled their blankets around them and settled in for another cold night.

Christmas Eve morning dawned cold and overcast, more snow beginning to fall. Ben gently knocked the snow off the top of the lean-to that had accumulated the previous night. He and Jim sat around the fire most of the day, talking quietly, frequently checking on Artemus. Ben had gone out again and found some more rabbits, this time Jim offered to clean them and get them ready for cooking. Ben noted that he still stayed very close to his partner's side.

They had a quite lunch, Jim keeping his eyes on his partner, hoping he would wake soon so he would truly know that all was well with his best friend. Ben had told him he thought it was a good sign that Artemus had not had any more nightmares and just seemed to be in a normal, if very deep, sleep. Jim had to agree. He fervently hoped his partner's nightmares were finally behind him for good.

Jim wished they had at least thought to bring a deck of cards and decided that when he got back to the train he would put a pack in his saddlebag and leave it there. If he were ever out in the middle of nowhere like this again he wanted to be prepared even it he had to play solitaire. They sat around the fire, taking turns keeping it going, and for the longest time no one dared say a word. To Jim it seemed that the serenity of the forest, the sheer vastness of the beauty, might be what was keeping Artie sleeping peacefully for the first time in days.

Jim looked past the fire and gazed at the forest around them. For the first time he noticed it's beauty. The majestic trees stretching upward all around them as if they were on sentry duty, guarding his friend. The snow looked like a blanket…a blanket keeping Artie safe until Jim could do the job right. He turned his eyes upward, blinking against the falling snow, _Thank you, thank you for keeping him safe and secure in your arms,_ Jim whispered, his eyes misting.

"Well, I think it's time to turn in, I think Artie will wake by morning and be chomping at the bit to get headed home."

"I think you're right, Mr. West, about it being time to hit the hay. And I do hope Mr. Gordon wakes up in the morning. Mr. West…" Ben said hesitantly.

"Yeah, Ben?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Ben. Merry Christmas," Jim smiled for the first time since this whole ordeal began. He was beginning to feel at ease.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. The snow had ceased falling in the night and the forest looked like a pristine painting stretching out as far as the eye could see. Everything look new and fresh, blanketed in the snow. Jim closed his eyes and made his Christmas wish…hoping fervently that it would be granted.

Ben had coffee made and was heating beans and leftover rabbit. Jim grinned as he thought about what Artie would have to say if he woke up now and smelled the beans. Ben informed him that was the last of the beans, with a sly smile on his face.

"Mr. Gordon would be happy to hear that I'm sure," Ben looked over to him.

"I'm sure he would," Jim smiled.

"Do you think he'll wake up today?"

"I don't know. With Artie you never can tell. And I know his body was pretty run down from lack of sleep," Jim regretted his last comment the second he said it when he saw the look on Ben's face.

"Ben, I'm sorry…" Jim started.

"No, it's okay, Mr. West. I deserved that. But I did learn a very valuable lesson from all this."

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"That there is always more than one side to a story and sometimes a great many sides and they all need a chance to have their say before I jump to any conclusions."

"Ben, if you really learned that then you are way ahead of a lot of us."

They fed and watered the horses and sat by the fire, neither wanting to disturb the serene setting. Jim napped, albeit so close to Artemus he could almost feel his breath, and Ben made a small snow castle and a snow family. Grinning to Jim when he looked curiously at him. Ben got a few more rabbits and he even brought back his coat full of berries he had found. He fixed them a good lunch of rabbit, bacon, berries and coffee. Jim and Ben sat eating when Ben noticed movement from inside the lean-to. He nudged Jim and pointed in Artie's direction. Jim jumped up and rushed to his side as Artie forced his eyes to open and the first thing he focused on was Jim's smiling face.

"James, my boy, you need a shave," he commented dryly.

"You don't look so handsome yourself, pal," Jim was all smiles.

"I shaved yesterday, what are you talking about? For that matter so did you…James?" Artie questioned.

"You've been asleep for a couple of days, Artie."

"I what? You're kidding me. I was just saddling the horses…" Artie sat up and looked around, taking in their surroundings.

"Hey we're still…oh man I passed out didn't I?" Artie groaned.

"You sure did, pal. Gave Ben here a heart attack. He thought you died or something till I explained the great Artemus Gordon to him," Jim replied.

"Oh I bet that went over real well," Artie suddenly smelled the food.

"Is that meat I smell or did you find a way to make beans edible?" Jim grinned from ear to ear at his partner and gestured towards the fire.

"Ben here is quite the hunter. He found us some rabbit so no beans for you today, pal. You stay here under the blanket and I'll get you a BIG plate."

"Oh brother," Artie groaned, "not that big, James. Remember if you will that I have been asleep for quite a while so my stomach probably shrunk a bit."

"Not a problem, Artie. Ben caught enough rabbits to feed a small army…there'll be plenty to stretch your stomach back out again."

Artie groaned and rolled his eyes, reaching out and making a small snowball he threw at his back. Jim brought him a plate and watched his partner as he actually ate, not just picked at his food, for the first time in a long while. Artie seemed well on the road to becoming his usual self…telling tall tales of his first rabbit hunt or his first dinner under the stars. Jim couldn't help but be grateful to God for bringing his friend back to him on the most special day of the year. Artie took in his partner's look.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Jim?" Artie asked.

"Nothing, pal. I'm just grateful to be alive and to be spending this day in particular with my best friend," Artie looked at him quizzically.

"Oh yeah you've been asleep, Artie," Jim looked at him as realization finally set into his friend.

"Merry Christmas, Artie," Jim said.

"Merry Christmas, Jim," came the quiet reply.

"I'm sorry, Jim but I didn't get you anything yet."

"Don't worry about it, Artie…someone else took care of the gift for you," Jim told his friend.

"I didn't get you anything yet either," Jim said, when he looked at him and saw the single tear making its way down Artie's cheek.

"I couldn't ask for a better gift, James, Merry Christmas, James, Merry Christmas." Jim reached out and drew his partner into a deep hug and finally let the rest of the anxiety he had been holding out.

Life would be back to normal now. Most importantly Artemus would be back to normal. Their friendship would be back to normal if not better than ever. Things had never looked brighter Jim thought as he hugged his brother, content in the knowledge that they had beaten the odds yet again. As long as they were a team no one or nothing stood a chance.

The End

Merry Christmas everyone!


End file.
